Rise of the Handyman Dragonborn
by HelloMyNameIsEd
Summary: The Dragonborn and his company are on the search for Esbern, whom they believe went running into Morrowind when he caught wind of Thalmor searching for him. While paying a visit to a Morrowind bar while in search of him, they manage to get into a bar fight. It is here that the Dragonborn suddenly learns of his predilection for improvised and unconventional weapons. Namely, a broom.
**Right, so here's the thing: in the latest update from Template of a Hero, Chapter 34, I had originally planned on Team Dragonborn getting into a fight at the bar in Morrowind, and I even wrote out the whole thing, but I ended up removing it because 1) since there was a big fight scene at the end of the chapter, I didn't want to wear the readers out with combat, and 2) it was a bit too silly for the situation and felt out of place. I didn't want to just delete it because I actually kinda liked it, so I decided to upload it as a deleted scene. Read on!**

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The tavern was different from those Archer had previously been to. Aside from the usual tables and the benches placed around a small firepit in the middle of the common room, there were alcoves in the walls where Dunmer sat and drank. Strange tapestries featuring portraits of important figures hung all around, including one impressive figure clad in golden armor, wielding a flaming sword with a long, jagged blade in one hand and a strange dagger in the other. The two Argonians and humans went and sat at the bar, where a gruff Dunmer took their orders for drinks.

"So what now?" Solona asked wearily when the bartender left, pulling off her gauntlets. "Nobody seems to know anything about Esbern."

"I dunno," Archer sighed. "I guess we just keep asking around, or hope that the others learn something."

"Why not ask around in this tavern? Maybe somebody knows something?" Lydia suggested hopefully.

Iskar snorted. "You're welcome to try. These mer came here to drink, not answer pointless questions about some old Nord."

Their drinks came by, served in small earthenware jugs. Archer grabbed his drink — _sujamma,_ the bartender had called it — and took a careless sip of the liquor. He was caught off-guard by the sudden kick he received moments later, but he took pleasure in the fingers of heat that snaked into his chest. _This tastes pretty good, too…_

"We have to try _something,_ " Lydia argued, taking a sip of her own drink. "Or else we could just trek around the entire town searching for Esbern's scent trail."

"But by the time we find it, it might be too weak to follow," Solona commented, propping up her elbow and resting her cheek against her fist. "Then what do we do?"

Nobody had an answer for that. Archer just kept sipping at his drink, feeling a satisfying buzz after a few pulls of the liquor, but even the pleasant-tasting _sujamma_ couldn't really keep the edge off his mounting concern. The group sat in thoughtful silence for a few minutes, before the peace was rudely broken.

"What's this? Someone sitting in _our_ seats?"

The four of them turned to see a gang of eight Dunmer standing a few feet away, arms crossed and with scowls on their faces. All of them wore the dour-colored cloth wrappings and loose smocks of townspeople, but they had cudgels at their hips. Their supposed leader, standing at the front, had intricate tattoos running down his arms.

"Your seats? I don't see your names written on them," Iskar grunted with disinterest.

"Go sit someplace else," Lydia put in, nursing her drink, "you'll not make _us_ move."

The leader of the gang shot the Nord a lecherous smile. "Maybe I'll let you two lovely dames stay for a bit so I can get to know you better," he purred, briefly studying Lydia and Solona. "But I won't tolerate a few lizards taking up our seats."

"Well that's just too bad, isn't it?" Archer muttered. "We're not moving. Now leave us in peace."

"Shut your mouth, you bastard son of a guar," the leader snarled, rounding on him. "Nobody talks to Revus Virian like that, you hear me? _Nobody._ "

Archer wasn't sure what it was that caused it — maybe it was the liquor, but maybe it was just a result of being tired of getting pushed around despite being the _Dragonborn_ himself — but he felt a flare of indignant fury well up inside him.

"Well you know what? I just did," Archer growled, standing up from his seat to stand before the gang of Dunmer. A few of them shrank back from the armored and angry reptile. The supposed Revus Virian stood his ground with a glower to match the taller Argonian's. "And we're going to stay true to our word. I don't have to answer to you. Trust me, I'm not looking for trouble… but I will _not_ let some thug like you push me around. Do you understand?"

"We're not your slaves anymore, _Dunmer,_ " Iskar added, rising to his feet as well. The six foot-two inches, two hundred pound reptile passed a withering glare over the tops of the elves' faces. "We're men free to do as we please — and if you have a problem with that, you can discuss it with us right here, right now. What say you?"

Dunmer and Argonians glared at each other in a battle of wills. The bar had gone quiet as the patrons all watched the stare-down. Even the bartender had nonchalantly gone to the other end of the bar. Lydia cracked her knuckles, and Solona idly slipped her steel gauntlets back on.

At last, Revus faltered, and lowered his gaze. Iskar snorted indelicately, muttered a "Now get out of our sight," and sat back down. After glaring at the Dunmer for a moment longer and deciding that they'd been broken, Archer released a disdainful huff and sat at his stool again. A moment later, they heard the elves walking away.

"Can't believe that worked," Solona remarked idly, sipping at her drink again. "You never struck me as the intimidating type before, Archer."

The Argonian shrugged with a pleasant smile. "I wasn't going to take anymore crap from a couple of racist—"

Lydia suddenly shouted. " _Guys, watch out!_

She was too late. Archer only heard footsteps, before one of the Dunmer smashed a chair across Iskar's armored back, shattering it. A beat later, another chair collided with the back of Archer's head, slamming his face into the bar counter and stunning him.

Chaos immediately erupted in the bar. Lydia surged to her feet and shot her fist into the jaw of the Dunmer who'd hit Archer, making him stagger to the side. Solona hopped off her stool and punched the same Dunmer in the stomach with her gauntleted fist, before delivering an uppercut that knocked him backwards, unconscious. The second chair-wielding Dunmer attempted to smack Iskar again with the remains of the furniture, only for the larger Argonian to block the strike with his armored forearm as he rose from his seat, before smashing his fist into the elf's chin, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying backwards.

The remaining members of the Dunmer gang charged into the brawl; the biggest two went for Iskar, two went for Lydia and Solona, and the last two charged for Archer, who was still recovering from the opening strike.

He suddenly found two pairs of ashen hands grabbing his arms and forcing him out of his seat. Despite being unable to think clearly from the liquor in his system, combat instincts unexpectedly flared to life. The moment he'd regained his footing Archer reared his head and sent one of his horns at the face of one elf, catching him below the eye and drawing some blood. While the Dunmer stumbled back in surprise, Archer stomped on the other one's foot and then elbowed him in his unarmored chest, sending him stumbling away too.

Archer staggered back against the bar and began groping about for anything he could use as a weapon — he'd never be able to draw his sword in time in these close quarters, or use it effectively. The Dunmer were quick to recover; both drew their cheap wooden clubs and charged, but not before Archer finally grabbed something and pulled it out before him.

Except, instead of a knife or even an empty bottle, it turned out to be a broom.

The Argonian stared at it for a single, bewildered moment, looked up to see the charging Dunmer, and immediately fell back on his combat instincts. He jabbed the blunt end of the broom into one thug's stomach and then turned to deflect the second one's club, before sending his armored boot into his stomach. The first one tried to club him, but Archer sidestepped the strike and swung the broom shaft at his temple, sending him to the floor.

He suddenly found the second thug's cudgel against his throat, choking him from behind. Archer swung the broom backwards and clocked the elf on the crown, elbowed him in the sternum, and then turned around, gripping the broom in two hands like a staff to smash the flat of the shaft against his nose. The elf staggered back, snarled through his bloody nose, and darted forth with his cudgel again. Archer parried two quick blows, redirected the third, and twisted the broom around to smother his attacker's face with the bristled end. While the Dunmer stumbled back in surprise, the reptile sent a powerful jab into his solar plexus, then grabbed his arm and threw him over his shoulder, flinging him against a chair and knocking his foe unconscious upon impact.

A cudgel sailed into the back of his head, making Archer stumble forward, seeing stars. The first Dunmer — he suddenly realized it was Revus, the tattooed leader — tried for a second, backhanded swing. A dazed Archer managed to block the swing with his armored forearm and send his broom shaft into the Dunmer's unarmored ribs. Revus grunted, but otherwise ignored the pain and swung again, catching Archer in the jaw. The Argonian stumbled back against the bar, hissing. He managed to twist away from Revus' second overhead strike as it fell, before grabbing a bar stool and throwing it at him.

Revus staggered when the stool made impact with his stomach, and then again when Archer's broom connected with his temple. Snarling and bloodied, he charged and lunged with an overhead swing. Archer lifted his broom to block it, but Revus' cudgel was studded and better than the others. His swing broke the shaft in two. However, his strike overbalanced him, and he stumbled forward right into Archer's forehead, approaching at rapid velocity.

The Dunmer's head snapped back upon impact, his eyes rolling. Before he could recover, Archer grabbed him by the throat and shoved him against a wooden beam. Revus regained his senses and immediately tried to pry the lizard off of him, but he settled back down when he found the sharp, broken end of the broom against his throat, right over his carotid artery.

"Now listen here, _cur,_ " Archer hissed lowly, eyes burning like twin pools of molten gold as he threatened to shove the sharp wooden stake into his neck. "I said I didn't want trouble, but you went ahead and started some. Now look what the result is."

All the other thugs were lying on the floor, unconscious or groaning weakly. One tried to rise, only for Iskar to press his boot against the mer's chest and force him back to the floor. Lydia and Solona sported visible, red marks on their faces that would turn into bruises if left unhealed, but otherwise they looked fine — their armor had protected them from most blows.

Archer turned back to Revus, who swallowed roughly when he realized his predicament. The Argonian slowly pulled back his lips in a snarl to show him his needle-sharp teeth. "I could kill you where you stand… but I'm feeling merciful today. I'll let you go, if you promise not to come back here again. Deal?"

Revus nodded shakily. "D-Deal…"

The Argonian removed the sharpened stake from his throat and shoved him aside. Revus stumbled, and looked back at their angry group one last time, before looking at his mer still on the floor. Archer's friends stepped away from the bodies, allowing those who were still coherent to sluggishly rise to their feet, before grabbing their unconscious friends and hauling them out of the bar as fast as they could. Revus was the last one to exit the tavern, hobbling as fast as his injured leg allowed him. When they left, a dizzying rush of lightheadedness overcame Archer, forcing him to take a seat to calm his spinning head.

Without warning, the entire tavern suddenly burst out in peals of laughter. The patrons clutched their sides and banged tabletops as they merrily roared their approval. Archer stared at them all in hazy bewilderment, as did his friends, not understanding what was going on.

"By Azura, it's about bloody time someone put those thugs in their place!" the bartender howled in laughter, banging his fist against the bar counter.

Archer turned at him with a shocked look. "You're not angry that we just beat up some of your patrons?"

"Patrons? Those louts never even paid for their drinks!" The bartender shook his head, smiling. "Someone had to put them in their place at some point, but I never thought they'd take a beating from a couple of Argonians, of all people. And the way you beat those thugs with a _broom!_ When everyone hears about it, they'll be the laughing stock of Shroudgrove."

The bartender smiled at Archer. "I like you, Argonian. You and your comrades are welcome to this bar anytime."

"Thanks for the offer," the Argonian grumbled, rubbing his bruised jaw for a moment before healing himself, and then going on to do the same to all his friends. "Too bad we're not going to be staying here for long."

"What're you here for, then? Mercenary business?" the bartender asked curiously.

Archer shook his head as he pumped Solona full of healing magic. "No. We're searching for a friend of ours who's gone running from the Thalmor. He's a Nord who goes by the name of Esbern."

"Hmm… an old Nord passed by here a couple of days ago, actually," the Dunmer recalled, holding his chin. "Balding head, gray beard, had a sack of supplies almost as big as he was. Sound like him?"

As one, the four of them froze, before turning to send astonished looks at the bartender. "You've seen him, then?" Lydia asked. "Can you tell us where he went?"

The Dunmer's features turned bleak. "I believe he intended on taking the direct southern road from Shroudgrove, hoping to reach the nearest city. Unfortunately, it's likely that he's either been captured or killed by now."

"What? Why?" Solona asked, shocked.

"There's a large group of bandits that call themselves the Wolf Fangs," the elf explained. "They've been around for quite some time, but they've only been a mere nuisance up to just recently. It seems that they've grown bolder and started raiding the roads just south of here, looting and especially kidnapping people who venture out alone."

Solona's brow puckered in concern, while Lydia's features darkened. Iskar muttered out a curse too lowly to be heard. Archer scowled, but he didn't growl in frustration — he was used to things not going their way by now. Instead, he asked, "Does anybody know where these bandits are operating from?"

The bartender shook his head. "No. The town guard hasn't been able to track them down, and a couple of sellswords we hired to find them never returned."


End file.
